Disciple of Chaos
by essaysforbreakfast
Summary: Merlin has dedicated all her life towards the resurrection of Chaos. And now that the Seven Deadly Sins are assembled, Merlin has almost reached her goal. But while she sits beside her comrades after their first successful mission, she cannot help but feel bitter about what is yet to come. About what she has to do to achieve her dream.


**(A/N) **So... I actually liked the recent Merlin twist quite a bit. In fact, Chapter 337 was so mindblowing, it gave birth to the idea of this fic. It took me forever to finish it, also because many of Merlin's thoughts are still unclear, but here you have my interpretation of what might be going on inside her head shortly after the Seven Deadly Sins are founded. Enjoy!

* * *

The liquor flows, laughter fills the tavern, and the Seven Deadly Sins celebrate the success of their first mission with all the razzmatazz expected for such a ragtag group of Holy Knights. Yet Merlin's thoughts drift to far away places, and the thrill that tightens her chest is unrelated to the aura of festivity around her.

After three thousand years of study and research, Merlin has almost reached her goal. She can already feel it at her fingertips, the warmth of victory, of _value_ that lets a pleasant shudder run down her spine. Yes, after all this time, the resurrection of Chaos lies at arm's reach. And once this goal is grasped, once all the little deeds are done, she will finally escape the emotional turmoil that plagues her every day with howling blizzards and raging fires.

The vision King Bartra had of a great peril approaching that is to be stopped by seven sinners could have hardly come at a more ideal time, and when the Ten Commandments are freed, their sovereign cannot follow far behind. The Demon King. Who Merlin has intended to destroy since her sixth summer in this world, and for this very purpose she has rummaged through the most remote places in Britannia in search for tiny bits and pieces of knowledge, a scribbled note here, a whispered word there, an inscription on a stone formation others would deem worthless. Yet she has never found an artifact quite this valuable; in the ruins of a city too long gone to still possess a name, Merlin has discovered the dust-covered remains of a textbook detailing the art of killing Gods.

After having swayed the tides of the Holy War so that the Demon King and Supreme Deity are sealed and stopped from interfering in her plans, Merlin has spent uncounted lifetimes searching for a way to at last destroy one of them, but until that fateful discovery, she had been unsuccessful. The textbook, written by a human as enamored with Chaos as Merlin is, proposes that in order to end a being as powerful as the Demon King, one must face him when he is at his most powerful, when the land itself adheres to his will. Only then will a resurrection by the means of another vessel be prevented. This revelation has troubled Merlin greatly, for she was uncertain where to collect warriors strong and audacious enough to face the Demon King. But luckily King Bartra's vision gave her the perfect red thread to follow.

Assembling the Seven Deadly Sins held little challenge to it. Three members had been rotting in Liones' dungeons already, and by chance or the working of Chaos, the last two – a Giant girl and a cursed human – stumbled into their group soon after. And with Merlin and Meliodas as founding members, they now have a full deck of cards Merlin can play out to her liking.

Meliodas…

He is sitting across the room from her, a mug of ale in hand and toasts to Ban as tough there is no trouble in the world. His carefully perfected front might fool the others, but Merlin knows him too well to buy his jovial attitude and his tasteless jokes. In reality, he is thinking about Elizabeth, who is sleeping in Liones' castle less than a mile away. His brilliant green eyes always turn a little empty when he thinks of her.

Meliodas is the only man Merlin has ever loved. His kindness amidst the dark persona of the Commandment of Love has attracted her from the moment he held out his hand to her, and his words, scarce but caring, filled her with the warmth of learning to cherish something for the first time. And whenever she climbed the hill outside of Belialuin with the legs of a child to meet him, the warmth resurfaced stronger than before until it was a wildfire in her chest.

Meliodas is the only man Merlin has ever hated. Sure, she held little love for the wizards of Belialuin who robbed her of her childhood and abused her for their own gains, but she did not care about them enough to truly despise them. But when Meliodas approached their hillside from the heights of a lovely blue sky with the Goddess Elizabeth, the gleam of true love in his eyes, Merlin felt the cold fangs of hate close around her heart for the first time. The feeling did not last, the human mind is too feeble to sustain a grudge for long, but the bitter memory assaults her thoughts sometimes, carves her out and leaves her hollow.

As Merlin watches Diane hand Meliodas a hopelessly oversized piece of pork, the two storms clash within her once more. Appalled by the sour taste that has invaded her drink, Merlin places her wineglass back onto the table. Her fingers tremble a little.

A trace of her turmoil must have shown on her face because Gowther closes the book he has been holding and looks at her through the unreadable expression of his helmet. "It seems you are quite troubled," he says. "Or I assume you are because of the way you cross your arms and because of your unregular heartbeat. Is this how humans express their worry?"

Merlin takes a breath to rebuild her blank expression. She needs to be more careful. The final goal is too close to be ruined by a mindless action born out of her minefield of human emotions.

"Many troubles seem to lie ahead of us. Some closer and more concerning then others," Merlin says vaguely. Gowther weighs her words for a moment before returning to his book.

The noise from the other side of the room amplifies as Ban attempts to pry the drinks from Escanor and King with the help of his magical ability. His own mug is emptied yet again. They have hardly spent an hour in the capital's only tavern with a high enough ceiling and open front for Diane to crouch inside, yet the rosiness of intoxication already shows on his cheeks. Merlin finds his ability to get wasted with such speed rather amusing, and she cannot help the small smile curling her lips as Escanor shrieks and spills the contents of his mug all over Meliodas who has been caught in the crossfire.

"CAPTAIN!" Diane cries and reaches for Meliodas in what appears to be an attempt to rub him dry, but only results in Diane hitting her head against the iron-crafted chandelier screwed onto the ceiling. "Ow. Captain, comfort me, I think I'm fainting."

"Diane, are you hurt, is it very bad? You have to be alright. Try slow breaths, yeah? I-is there anything I can do to help you?" King asks as he bounces in the air in front of her in panic.

"Only if you get the Captain to kiss me."

King tries to overplay the hurt that crosses his face, but Merlin reads him like an open book, right through his masquerade as an overweight human and into his true nature as Fairy King. His affection for Diane is almost as plain as her ignorance towards it.

Merlin knows a great many things about her comrades, despite the third law of the Seven Deadly Sins Meliodas has put in place to ensure no one is questioned about their sin. They all have their demons, and were it not for Meliodas, Merlin might just have the most of them. Snooping around in the pasts of her comrades is merely the most recent of her offences. But what else was she supposed to do? Too much is at stake for her to blindly trust the group of sinners currently celebrating their short-term victory in a tavern poignantly dubbed 'Well of Wonders'. All she has worked towards depends on the success of the Seven Deadly Sins, on their ability to stand united against one of the most powerful forces in the known world. She needed to make sure they fit the roles she has laid out for them.

"Didn't the Captain want to give a speech? How about we get to that now?" King fumbles to replace the awkward silence after Diane's words. She is thrilled immediately and crouches deeper into the tavern room to bring her face closer to Meliodas and in the process forgets she was fainting a moment ago.

Meliodas takes to the suggestion and crudely climbs from his chair onto the coarse-crafted table after refilling his mug another time. "I'm gonna make it quick so that Ban still has a chance to hear the end of it before he passes out," he says, and this time the amusement that brims in his eyes is genuine. Or perhaps it is merely the candlelight reflecting in these green depths.

"I can s'ill s'omach anower round."

"Judging from the slouch in your speech patterns and from the increased temperature in your cheeks, I would advise against any other form of stimulating liquor for the upcoming ten hours," Gowther says and rises from his sitting position to hand Ban his untouched cup of water.

"Less talking and more listening," Meliodas demands. He straightens his posture, and a tiny piece of the respect he used to evoke among the Demon Clan when he fought as their general seeps through the walls he has built. "We as the Seven Deadly Sins are tasked with one of the most important jobs in the kingdom. Other Holy Knights can spend their duty time with guarding remote outposts or collecting taxes. Hardly anyone will bat an eye if they make a misstep. But we were assembled by King Bartra himself to deal with those threats no one else can tackle. If we make a misstep, Liones might fall. Britannia itself might fall. Not to mention that we'd all be put back into prison if that happens. So here's to not spending your days in Liones' dungeons." He grins and the others raise their mugs to him.

Merlin keeps her wineglass firmly rooted on the tabletop. The burgundy liquid swaps back and forth when she nudges its confinement with her index finger and a sharp pling rings from the glass, suffocated by the noises of agreement and amusement that is too loud and too demanding. An act they all play with each other because the past, the truth hurts too much.

"You all did a great job out there today fighting that basilisk," Meliodas continues. "Dear old Zaratras would say it was worthy of the title of Diamond Rank Holy Knight. And about that teamwork thing – not to name names, but I'm looking at you, Ban – we still got time to get the hang of things. So no need to worry. Guess this is the part where I give credit to the one who made sure to get this whole show running." Meliodas' eyes find Merlin's through the length of the room, a true, unfiltered thankfulness in them. "Merlin, thanks for putting me back in line when I needed it. This team wouldn't exist without you. 'Kay, that's enough talk, I know you just wanna get to the toasting. To the Seven Deadly Sins!"

"TO THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS!"

"To the Seven Deadly Sins," Merlin says with significant delay and drowns her unease with the content of her wineglass. She would have preferred if Meliodas had kept her out of his speech. She would have preferred to not see the trust in his eyes she will soon have to abuse.

The celebration only lasts another hour; midnight hardly passed its peak, and the moon still hangs round and full above the city. Escanor, perhaps in an attempt to save himself from Ban's drunk escapades, sits next to Merlin and does his best to keep conversation alive. To an extent, she is grateful for the distraction, but she doubts to make for a particularly engaging discussion partner. Her thoughts are unfocused, and Escanor's quiet, attentive voice drifts in and out of her attention. After a while, his nervousness and her tightlipped answers become overbearing, and he sits in silence, twisting his thumbs as though this action had any sort of merit to it.

Ban has slumped in his chair sometime after Meliodas' speech, knocked out for at least the remainder of the night. Though the hangover he will battle tomorrow will hardly dampen his enthusiasm once another round is served. Both Diane and Escanor have yawned with more and more tiredness the emptier the bottles and barrels became before sleepiness overtakes them. And before bitter irony can make Merlin and Meliodas the only remaining ones awake, Merlin flees into the cool air of the night.

Despite the amount of skin her casual outfit reveals, Merlin does not shiver in the chill winds hurrying through the streets. She could teleport the rest of the way, or inflict a levitation spell on herself to reach her laboratory faster, but she decides to walk. Her heels click on the cobbled street, a melody hasty and unrhythmic. Chaotic.

Walking is simple. Setting one foot before the other is simple. Concentrating on the small bumps in the road to avoid a stumble is simple. Forgetting about what she will do to manipulate the odd bunch of helpless morons in the tavern behind her is not. Merlin will regret all the tiny tricks she will play to push them this way or that, she will regret the lies with which she will pave their way going forward.

But the resurrection of Chaos lies at arms' reach. And she will not allow her hands to be tied behind her back because of the image of six heartbroken faces floating in her head.

"Merlin?"

She stops dead in her tracks, and all the carefully built walls tumble when he addresses her with _that_ voice. A voice that brims with uncertainty, trembles with the fear that his hopes will be crushed another time. The one-hundred-and-seventh time.

Merlin refuses to turn, but her head still makes the move to betray her, and she looks over her shoulder to meet the eyes of the man who fills her with conflict every time she sees him. His arms are firmly tucked to his sides, he cannot bring himself to reach towards her, afraid to have his hand pushed back. In the wide space of the road, cast into a pattern of shadows and moonlight, he looks small, a little lost perhaps. Yet Merlin will always look up to him. In that, their roles will never change.

"What is it, Captain?" she asks, her voice entirely detached from the emotions waging war inside.

His gaze skips to the palace blocking the stars behind her for only a heartbeat, but Merlin notices regardless. "I just wanted to make sure that I can count on you with Elizabeth. I can't lose her another time, I can't go through this again. But I'm afraid of what it will cost. What rules I have to break along the way."

"After Danafall you swore you would never let her suffer another reincarnation, no matter the costs. I hope you haven't forgotten. You owe it to Sissy."

"How could I ever forget? I can count on you to remind me." The faint smile flittering across his face might have been a trick of the light.

"Certainly. After all, we go way back."

There it is again, the dull phrase Merlin tosses Meliodas when she has nothing else to say. Nothing she dares to say.

"I still don't want the Ten Commandments freed," Meliodas says, "but I guess it'll happen no matter what. And with the Sins, I think we really can break the curse. We've never been this close, right? It has to work this time. I won't ask you to walk all the way with me, the Demon King is on me to take down, but will you help me against the hurdles along the way? For her?"

Merlin always wanted him to ask her to walk all the way with him. But he denies her this little joy another time. "Of course I will, Captain. I ensured you long ago that I will do my best to eliminate the Demon King."

But she will not do it for Elizabeth's sake. No, not even for her. Even as the warm smiles of the two kindest people she has met invades her mind, Merlin holds her ground and shuts the emotions out before Meliodas can see them reflect on her face.

"Glad to hear it. I bet she'd be thanking you too if she were here."

"There is no need for thanks," Merlin says and crosses her arms tighter as the cool of the night at last finds its way into her bones. Now she does turn and looks at him in expectation of a humorous remark or another mention of the woman who always circles his mind, but he is occupied studying her face. In search for the trapdoor behind her words perhaps.

But Merlin has had three thousand years to perfect the art of a straight face, and there is nothing to find in the relaxed line of her lips or the narrowed corners of her eyes.

"I'll see you around tomorrow then. Bartra, that old geezer, said there's a band of robbers hunting down Byron's china he wants taken care of."

Meliodas grants her a nod, caring but entirely platonic, and disappears into an alleyway heading towards the palace. His steps echo in the gorge between the houses long after he has left, a cacophony too loud in Merlin's ears. She does not dare to move until the last note of Meliodas' departure is played, and only then does she fill the silence with her own steps. Setting one foot before the other. Concentrating on the small bumps in the cobbled road.

Merlin wants Meliodas to be happy. She wants to see a full smile break through the clouds of pain and fear and worry, she wants to hear Sissy's laugh the way it had been before she was cursed, she wants to feel the warmth of Elizabeth's hug. She wants to see the gleam of true love in Meliodas' eyes. Even if won't be her who he is looking at.

And yet, there is one thing Merlin desires more than their happiness. A way to fill the gaping hole, a way to end the warfare of her emotions. Surely a being as almighty as Chaos is capable of fulfilling this one little wish of hers.

Merlin follows the labyrinth of streets as they twist and turn, climb a gentle hill and slope down, each cobblestone as trotted-out as the next. She takes detours on her way to her laboratory, for the first time in a while unwilling to return to the solitude of her books and experiments, to the halls with ceilings too high and chambers too empty.

She has housed in many laboratories over the centuries, and none of them deserved the title of 'home'. The underground cave near Ishtar where the last traces of Goddess Clan magic radiated from the stone walls, useful for a while, but the threat of discovery became too high. The tower atop Mount Agned, burned to the ground when Merlin tried to replicate the characteristics of the Demon King's powers. The small hut near Danafall, where she lost so many of her most valuable scripts. No matter how serious the setback, Merlin has moved on and tried anew, a little wiser each time.

For too long a while, research and experiments have been all she has known, but today she took a sip of a different poison. Fighting alongside these people who are her comrades by name was pleasant, no matter how disordered their performance has been. The celebration afterwards was worthwhile, regardless of the bitterness rocking back and forth through Merlin's mind. She finds amusement in their unique quirks, in Ban's passion for booze, in Gowther's love for books, in King's eagerness to comfort Diane when she panics at the sight of a bug, in Escanor's habit to bury his self-loathing underneath a pile of pretty phrases and poems.

Yes, Merlin will regret. She will regret so very much of what she will say and do to hurt them, to shape them into the perfect unit powerful enough to take on the Demon King. Even so, one day of comradery cannot outweigh three thousand years of longing.

Longing for the gifts only Chaos can give her.

Merlin stops, and the clacking of her heels disperses to cast the alleyway in silence. The moonlight breaks on the milky glass of a lattice window to her right, creating a one-of-a-kind pattern of silver rims that disrupts the dusty surface. Beyond the glass, a jar stands on the window ledge, placed there like a trophy by a child perhaps. Two Fire Irises flutter inside.

Fire Irises are curious creatures, a type of insect on first glance, but they are born from magic and feed from it to let their wings glow in spectacular hues of orange. After a single day, their life is burned out and they wither away in the wind. Seeing two of them together is a rarity.

Merlin remembers the first time she has read about these manifestations of magic, she remembers the laughter filling her laboratory when she managed to prolong the life of one such Fire Iris she caught after weeks of preparation. The mere human living behind this window, has succeeded in trapping two of them to create a display of wonder where the pale moonlight and the intense flames of the Fire Irises meet on the glass.

The play of light and shadow will never be quite the same as it is in this moment, the moon will shift, the glass will become more tainted, the house on the opposite street will finish construction of its third floor to block the light. The Fire Irises will perish by tomorrow morning. This image, born out of a hundred variables that aligned to create a moment of chaotic beauty, will only exist in Merlin's memory. An experience that is entirely hers.

Chaos can fill her life with an infinite amount of these.

A cloud hurries past the moon, and the reflection in the lattice window ceases to exist. But in Merlin's mind the image burns on, burns away her hesitance to fill her with the warmth of clarity. She turns, and with the snap of her fingers, she has left the street behind and stands amidst her study room. The candle on the oak desk springs to life, and its flame outlines the frame of Merlin's favored bookshelf with golden contours. But it is the book resting atop the desk that pulls Merlin's focus.

Her most prized possession, the book about the art of killing Gods. The volume is opened at the page she has read last, and the bold, black letters on the yellowed parchment lure her forward. Her fingers stroke the narrow valleys the strong hand of the author has carved into the page when he wrote these wonderous words.

_The power of the Demon King can only be erased from the face of this world when an energy of equal potential is sacrificed. Like two opposing astral forces, they will cancel each other out until they are no more._

Would Meliodas ever be able to look at her if he knew? In order to break Elizabeth's curse, he will acquire the power of the Demon King, but this is where his and Merlin's paths diverge. He has no reason to give up these powers once Elizabeth is safe, he has no incentive to wipe out the remains of his father, his kindness, the same kindness Merlin has fallen for so long ago, will weaken his resolve. Unless Merlin plays her cards well.

Unless she gives him a reason to continue fighting.

Lost in thought, Merlin caresses the rough parchment until her fingers hover at the end of the page, ready to turn it over. She has yet to read the final chapters, has delayed the end whenever her weak human heart circled back to Meliodas and Elizabeth, whenever she thought about the dangers she will expose them to. She will hesitate no more.

The resurrection lies ahead. And Merlin will walk all the way.

Alone if she must.


End file.
